Stolen Kisses
by Love the Brightest Star
Summary: Love is something which transcends all boundaries, and crops up even in the most unlikely places. A drabble collection about the various canon pairings of the Harry Potter universe. 4 - George Weasley is broken, and there is perhaps only one person who can heal him. 5 - Ted is heartbroken as Andromeda breaks up with him, but...
1. Home

**Hi guys! I'm up with another one. This one, as the summary says, will be a collection of drabbles about the canon pairings of the Harry Potter universe. Hope you enjoy it. Please read and review.**

 **Disclaimer : Don't own Harry Potter (But I can keep dreaming).**

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 **Title:** Home

 **Pairing:** Remus and Tonks

It was a quiet morning, bright and peaceful. Silence lay all around like a blanket, save the occasional sweet, trilling calls of a thrush. The quaint country road was completely empty. Well, it was, until a middle-aged man with a mass of greying sandy hair appeared with a slight pop in front of a lovely little cottage. His body language screamed aloud his hesitation as he walked up to the front door.

Remus Lupin stood at the door of his wife's house, trying to bring up enough courage to knock. Twice he brought up his hand to the door, but lowered it at a second thought.

 _Do it now, idiot,_ he reprimanded himself. _Where's your Gryffindor courage?_ Oh, well, maybe his fear had been confirmed; perhaps the Hat _had_ been wrong after all, after all these years.

Sighing, he finally rapped his knuckles lightly on the wood. Two minutes passed without any sign of any one having heard him.

 _Isn't anyone home?_ he wondered.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps sounded on the other side, and the door was flung open, revealing his wife, Nymphadora Lupin nee Tonks. Her hair was mousy, reminiscent of the times when he was trying to push her away, and there were dark circles under her eyes. He had hardly begun to feel the guilt which was crashing upon him for being the reason of her poorly appearance, when her lips parted to form the shape of an 'o'.

"Remus!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening.

"Dora, I am back," he said weakly, mentally reprimanding himself for not having anything better to say.

Her hair turned a brilliant shade of red, and Remus gulped. It was a telltale sign of anger.

"You have been gone for a whole week, Remus Lupin! I have been mad with worry. Not a letter or a note, nothing! What were you playing at? Do you have any idea how frantic I was? I contacted everyone for news about you, but nothing! All I got was a big blank!" Her anger held her speechless for a moment, and with a visible effort at calming herself, she spoke again. "And what is your excuse?" Her eyes flashed dangerously.

"I am sorry, Dora," he said, his eyes downcast. "I thought it better to distance myself from you, now that you are...pregnant, but now I have realised that it was a really stupid mistake on my part. I will never, ever repeat this folly. Will you please forgive me?" he looked up at her beseechingly.

She looked like she was going to slap him, or else shut the door on his face. Her eyes, currently a dark, stormy gray, which reminded him of Sirius, were flashing like thunderclouds. But then she did something Remus had not expected.

She kissed him.

Her lips moved over his fiercely, her entire self radiating anger. Remus didn't know whether to pull away or not, for she seemed to be exhausting both of their oxygen supplies. Yet she did not stop. Instead, he let his mind wander as his lips moved under hers, thinking of how much he had missed the feeling of her in his arms, of her soft lips on his, and just how stupid he had been to think of giving it all up.

Finally, she pulled away, and both of them resurfaced, gasping for air.

"Don't think I have forgiven you yet," she huffed, turning away from him as he stood, dazed from the impact of her kiss. But as she stomped away and disappeared up the stairs, Remus couldn't suppress a smile, for her hair had once more turned a shocking shade of bubblegum pink. Her anger was something he knew he could live with, as long as she was with him.

 _Home sweet home,_ he thought, as he followed her.

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 **So how was it? Please review and let me know what you think. Which pairings would you like me to write and what should I write about it? Suggestions are most welcome!**


	2. Fire

**A/N :** **Thanks to MFernandaGR for the review! Also to those who faved and followed this.**

 **Disclaimer : Don't own Harry Potter**

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 **Title :** Fire

 **Pairing :** Harry and Ginny

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 **Fire**

She sat curled up against him in a comfy armchair in the sitting room. His fingers moved through her long red hair in a rhythmic to and fro motion, causing her to close her eyes every now and then, savouring the sensation. A fire crackled in the hearth, sparks flying out of its many blazing tongues, which sizzled little holes in the hearthrug.

Both Harry and she had a busy life; he spent much of his days and nights completing missions as an auror, and she hardly got any leave from the never ending cycle of trainings, matches and tournaments with the Harpies. Their distance and lack of free time made it difficult for them to keep up with their relationship, and yet, somehow, they managed, and neither of them had anything to complain. So there they were, having arranged a night together as soon as they had got a little bit of leisurely time.

A blizzard roared outside, sweeping the grey London in a cloak of white, but the cold did not seep into the room. Here there was only warmth, warmth which exuded from the fire and from his body.

She looked at him as he continued caressing her hair; he had been silent for a long time. This wasn't really very surprising, though; he was not a very talkative person, but there was something deeper beneath his lack of words today, some underlying thought or memory swirling beneath his eyes. The firelight reflected off his glasses, and his green eyes looked lost.

"You have been awfully quiet today," she said softly.

He snapped out of his reverie and looked at her.

"Sorry," he said half apologetically, "I was thinking."

 _Ah, thinking. When isn't he doing that?_ She felt a half-smile lift her lips as the thought crossed her mind.

"About the war," he added after pausing for a couple of seconds.

She froze; the war wasn't something which they talked about; it was a subject which, by some unspoken agreement, they all had ceased mentioning. True, it was a reminder of their victory, of the sway of good over evil, but it also brought back too many painful memories, memories of loss and grief.

She did not speak, unsure of how to respond. He apparently took her silence as a permission to continue, for his voice, once again, broke through the silence of the room.

"When I was going to give myself up to Voldemort," said he, "I saw you. You were reassuring a young girl. I was under the invisibility cloak."

She felt a mixture of emotions sweep though her at his words; she remembered the day as clear as crystal.

"I thought I felt someone pass by me," she said, remembering how she had looked up, feeling a pair of eyes on her back. "But I thought that the war had addled my senses when I saw no one."

"I wanted to show myself to you, to talk to you," he went on. "But I didn't, because then I wouldn't have been able to walk away."

She remained quiet for a second or two.

"I wouldn't have stopped you, you know," she said at last. "If I had known exactly why you were doing it back then, I wouldn't have stopped you. I wouldn't have told you to stay back."

"Really?" surprise shone in those green eyes which had once been Lily's. That was not an answer he had expected.

"Yes," she said, and after a pause, continued. "I would have gone with you. I'd have died with you."

He sat, stunned, as the impact of her words hit him. His voice failed him, but she understood, from the fervour, admiration and love that were shining through those emerald eyes. He opened and closed his mouth in failed attempts to speak, and she couldn't suppress a smile.

"You know, Ginny," he finally found his voice, "I never thought I could love you any more than I already did. But you keep proving me wrong."

Her smile widened and a plink flush spread through her cheeks as she leaned forward to kiss him, promptly dissolving any other thoughts from her brain as she let her lips speak in other ways than words. His arms encircled her waist, drawing her closer to him.

Outside, the blizzard continued to douse the city in icy cold. But here, wrapped up in the armchair, Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley were completely oblivious to anything other than each other. The fire crackled merrily as two ribbons of flame rose and became one.

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 **How was it, then? Do reviews, guys. I've got only one! Please increase the number. Your reviews are the greatest sources of motivation.**


	3. Alone

**A/N : Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited or ar following this. To the guest who requested a Ron/Hermione story, I'll do it soon, I promise.**

 **Meanwhile, enjoy this! You'll review, won't you? Pretty please?**

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 **Title:** Alone

 **Pairing:** Severus and Lily (one-sided)

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 **Alone**

Severus Snape sat in the library, staring at his Potions book without taking in a line of it. His black eyes simply stayed focused at one fixed point near the margin, unmoving, vacant. Somehow, despite Potions being his favourite subject, he found himself having no interest whatsoever in the recipe for brewing Felix Felicis, not today. Normally, he would be in the company of Avery and Mulciber now, but the two of them and their little gang had gone 'Mudblood hunting' again. Severus just wasn't feeling up to tormenting muggleborns, whose only crime was being born to non-magical parents, and so he had given them an excuse about finishing his Potions homework (they hadn't got any that week, in fact, but his 'friends' found academics too trivial a matter to keep track of, so he had got off with that).

He sat all alone at a table near the corner, feeling terribly lonely. Solitude did not usually bother him; he was used to it, in fact, but today, he couldn't help long for someone to sit beside and talk to him, smile at him, laugh with him. Particularly, a red-haired, green-eyed, Gryffindor someone. It had been over a year since Lily stopped talking to him. He had tried several times to make things up to her, but in vain. The best response his efforts had elicited was a sad smile and 'I am sorry, Severus, but you have chosen your path, and I have chosen mine'. The other occasions had been much, much worse.

He saw her every day, and how could he not, when she stood out so much among everything? He had tried to use any opportunity he got to talk to her, but there weren't too many of those. For one thing, she had taken to avoiding him, and rarely acknowledged him when they crossed paths. He had hoped potions classes to be one of those opportunities, but it wasn't quite as easy. Slughorn seemed to take immense pleasure in pitting his two favourite students against each other to pick out the best, and so kept them separated most of the time; and on those rare times when they did get paired, she said little more than 'Pass the knife, please,' or 'could I have the boomslang skin?' in a tone that people used on strangers.

Severus really, really missed his friend. After spending much of his childhood alone, he hadn't thought he would feel that lonely, but there was no denying that he did.

And there was another thing. Now that Lily no longer talked to him, he realised how much he had liked her. In fact, he found that he liked her much more than as just a friend. Severus Snape had never really known love, and he wasn't sure what was happening to him, but he sure began to crave Lily's company more than ever. Was this love? He did not know, and he was afraid.

There was a movement behind the shelf which he was facing. Severus looked up. His body stiffened with anticipation. It was none other than Lily Evans.

She carried a stack of books in her arms (always the bookworm, he thought fondly), and seemed to be in the process of selecting more. Even as he watched her critically scan through the rows and rows of books before her, evidently trying to decide which one she ought to pick, she seemed to sense his gaze and looked up. Their eyes met. Severus tensed. And then she did something completely unexpected. She smiled.

Severus felt his breath catch in his throat. He could not believe this. Lily... Lily was really smiling at him! He realised, after seemingly ages of gobsmacked staring, that the least he could do was return the favour, and his lips twitched up in a real smile. He hadn't smiled like that in months, and the upward curve of his lips felt strange, almost alien to him.

Her smile widened, and her eyes sparkled. _Coming in a sec,_ she mouthed. Severus nodded eagerly; he could wait weeks if she promised to return. He hadn't felt this happy for so long!

She took a little more time, picking two books out of the shelf, and then walked towards him, the smile on her face lingering all the time. He quickly shifted his books to a pile on the side, so that she could keep hers next to them.

He could hear her coming, so close now, almost there, he could smell the soft perfume of vanilla of her shampooed hair...

She walked up to him, and passed right by him.

For a moment, Severus sat frozen, his eyes still trained on the books, held in place with shock. Then he looked up. She wasn't there. She was gone.

As his senses returned, he hurriedly turned in his seat. Lily was sitting down next to James Potter. As he watched, Potter reached forward and held her hand, and Lily blushed, and smiled all the time.

He could feel his eyes stinging. Blood rushed to his head as anger, grief, regret and jealousy swamped his mind. Lily hadn't smiled at him. She had smiled at Potter. She hadn't even noticed him, not once, all this while. He clenched his fists till his knuckles turned white. Why did it have to be Potter? Of all the people, why did it have to be _him_?

As the two began talking, a picture of friendship, perhaps even love, Severus collected his books and rushed out of the library.

He was alone. Forever alone.


	4. Mess

**So here's another drabble. I don't know how you feel about my update speed, it may feel a bit slow, but I am really under a lot of pressure these days... Anyway, please give your opinions — grievances or shortcomings or anything. Read and review, guys! Hope you enjoy this.**

 **Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter.**

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 **Title: Mess**

 **Pairing: George and Angelina**

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The war was over; everyone across the country was celebrating. Except him. He didn't try to; he knew he couldn't. Not when he had lost Fred.

The war had taken away a lot, and every one of his family members was trying to regain the balance of life that it had cost them. Slowly, very slowly, things were going back to normal. Harry and Ginny had got back together, and so had Ron and Hermione; his father came back home tired every evening after the extensive work of rebuilding the crashed Ministry, and his mother had finally found solace and happiness in the household work and caring for others. But not him. He was anything but normal. The others had lost a lot in Fred — a brother, a son, a friend, but he had lost more; he had lost a part of himself.

He kept a brave face in front of others because he didn't want to give them any more pain; he smiled a forced smile, he laughed a little, he talked when being spoken to. He had to act normal, just for their sake, because Harry didn't deserve any more guilt, Hermione didn't deserve any more pain, his family didn't deserve any more sorrow.

But when alone, he was broken. He had started the Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes just for the sake of doing something; the 'Weasleys' in the once brilliant signboard made him wince every time he looked at it, because there was no longer two, only one remained. He was afraid of looking into a mirror as it always showed _him_ ; only the gaping hole in the side of his head served as a fortunate reminder that he was staring at himself, and not at his dead twin. Alcohol was his only comfort; empty firewhiskey bottles littered the floor of his decrepit apartment above the shop which was now his home.

George Weasley was a mess, a walking, living mess that nobody could put together.

Until she came along. Her visit was an unexpected one; she had come to see how he was. And she met with only a shadow of the person she had lived and laughed with. She was still the same — the dark beauty, bold and confident. She offered him a friendly hand to bring him back to the life he had once lived, and with a drunken resignation, he took it. For days, it was just friendship, a close companionship which sometimes made him feel whole. She helped him forget, she helped him start again.

Slowly, gradually, he felt something different as he sat by her side. Something would stir in the depths of his heart as she laughed; a shiver would run down his neck when she let her warm breath fall on it as she talked.

When he talked to her, he felt unexpectedly light — an effect that nobody else in the world could create, not even his family — he felt as if he wasn't the young man who had seen the horrors of war, who had lost a ear, a twin, and all the relief and happiness of his life to it, but as if he was the same man, no, boy, he had once been — George Weasley, prankster extraordinaire and creator of Weasleys' Wildfire Whizbangs and so many other wonderful things. When she left, even for short intervals, it seemed that his whole world had, once more, been doused in darkness. He realised that now he liked Angelina Johnson in a way so very different from how he had liked her in his school years.

He had had countless strange and unique experiences to boast about, but he had never fallen in love before. And so, alien as he was to the feeling, he was afraid of admitting his feelings to Angelina, afraid he'd muck everything up, and she'd leave him. Because repressing his feelings was something he could manage, but living without her was beyond him. He was completely dependent on her now, the emotional support and cheer that she had brought with her the only thing that kept him from falling apart all over again. She held him together, like the super glue that they had used in the shop, which could fix about anything. And so, though his mind was a whirlwind of emotions, he kept quiet, and savoured her company, without speaking a word about love. The fact that Fred had danced with her in the Yule Ball, and would perhaps have been dating her had he lived, did not help in settling his qualms.

But it was her own brilliant personality that slowly egged him on — light touches, gentle caresses and conversations with no one to interrupt. And one day he could hold back no longer; he crashed his lips to hers, trying to convey all the emotions he had been afraid of putting into words. And when her fingers tangled themselves in his ginger hair with a reassuring quality that no one else could offer, he heard her silent promise — she would never, ever, let him go.

George Weasley was fixed; he was whole again.


	5. Runaway Bride

**Disclaimer: I just borrowed Rowling's characters for a while.**

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 **Title: Runaway Bride**

 **Pairing: Ted and Andromeda**

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Ted was still staring at the letter in his hands, hands which were still trembling. It had been three days since that piece of parchment had come, bound in a heavy cream envelope, carried by her owl, Hermes. And that 'her' here was none other than Andromeda Black.

Three days ago it had come, tied to the legs of the proud snowy owl which came as a black backdrop against the setting sun. All this time, he had become well acquainted with the owl, but never before had it been the bearer of so disheartening a news. Every morning since, Ted pulled the letter out from under his pillow and stared across the words written in the most elegant handwriting in the world... still hoping, still trying to believe that they were false, that the long and repeated readings would change the words written. And every time he did so in these three days, he felt his heart shatter anew, just as his hands trembled uncontrollably.

 _Dearest Ted,_ it said, the voice of the one he loved most ringing in his head as if she were in front of him,

 _Next Thursday will mark almost a year from the day we began seeing each other. I am sure you are excited about it, and waiting to see me once again. Which is why it hurts me to tell this to you._

 _It will be lying if I said that I did not enjoy spending time with you. Indeed, the hours spent in your company were perhaps the ones which I cherish most in my life. —_

At this point, the otherwise perfect, elegant writing had trembled; the ink had splattered across the parchment and the writing warped and hardly legible in places, as if there had been some sort of tussle with the quill while writing.

 _— But this must be the end, Ted. We cannot continue to see each other any longer. I had known it the first time I held hands with you, but tried to ignore it, foolishly; I had deluded myself to believe that we are one and same. No, Ted. You are a_ — the next word had been nearly blotted out by the large drop of water that had apparently fallen on it, and could be barely read; and Ted couldn't help wish that it were completely so, because that word written by that hand cut across his heart like a knife — _mudblood, and I have defiled the pure blood and dignity of my family more than long enough by interacting with you; this cannot be continued. We do not belong to the same level; my fate lies with someone else_.

Here again there was that uncontrolled jerking in the writing, and the next, and last few words were written in tiny letters — _I am sorry, Ted._

The letter had not been signed off, but the writing was enough for Ted to recognise the sender. It was Andromeda, beyond doubt.

And yet Ted couldn't believe it. The letter was so unlike anything Andromeda would have sent him. All this time, she had never once mentioned the issue of blood purity. When he fell for a Slytherin, a Black of all people, he had been prepared to get scalded. And he had been hurt, more than once; Bellatrix, her sister, never missed a chance to hurt him in the worst possible way. The white scar that had been left after she split open his right leg a month ago still hurt. But he had made it through, all thanks to Andromeda. Because he knew that she was with him, and with that reassurance, he could brave anything. But now, he felt empty and broken. He has been hoping indeed to see her again soon; they had only just graduated from Hogwarts, and he had seen her last at the King's Cross station.

With a heartbroken sigh, he placed the letter on his desk. Nothing was going to change it; Andromeda was lost to him forever. She would someday marry a rich pureblood (who knew, perhaps she was already betrothed to someone), and he... for the first time in his life, Ted cursed his parentage.

"Ted!"

Ted looked around. Had it been his fancy, or did someone just call his name? The voice had sounded far off, outside the house. And that voice sounded suspiciously like Andromeda...

"Ted!"

Yes, there was no mistaking it. It was Andromeda's voice. Faraway and faint, but still hers. Ted laughed ruefully. Was he so far gone that he was hallucinating, even without taking a single sip of firewhiskey?

"Blacks and their bloody ways," he muttered. "I should never have thought I could get Dromeda. And now she is playing with my head."

And yet the calling continued, becoming more insistent with each passing second. Finally, there came a knocking on the main door.

Ted started. The knock had sounded pretty solid; it couldn't be fake, could it? So he had to go and answer the door. Grumbling to himself, he walked downstairs and wrenched the door open.

Andromeda was standing there, dragging her trunk behind her.

"Ted!" she exclaimed, and took a nervous step towards him.

"Wow, my hallucinating skills have increased tremendously," he muttered, blinking at her owlishly.

She stared at him. "Ted, I'm real. I'm here," she said.

"Well, I guess the Andromeda of my hallucinations would have said the same," he countered with mulish stubbornness.

She sighed, and then swooping upon him, kissed him right on the lips for a long moment.

"That do you?" she asked with a crooked smile.

"That is perhaps more creative than hallucinations can get," Ted admitted. "But what are you doing here when that letter's lying on my desk?"

Her eyes darkened, and unshed tears clung to her lashes as she lowered her head.

"I am so sorry about that. My parents ordered me to do it; they threatened to hurt you and you family if I didn't. Bella dictated it... the middle part. Believe me Ted," her eyes pleaded as tearfully as her voice, "I would never have called you — _that_."

"I do," Ted replied simply, because indeed, he did.

"But then they announced that they were going to sell me off to Rabastan Lestrange." Her voice shook. "I— I couldn't have that... I couldn't marry that devil, especially not after knowing what my letter must have done to you. So... I left. I told them that I was choosing you over everything else... and left." And then, the tears spilled. "They disowned me, Ted," she whispered, her eyes streaming. "Mother blasted me off the tapestry before I left. They... they are not my family any more."

And with sobs wracking her frame, she fell into his arms. Ted was never very good at consoling, so he did what he could — he kissed her, running his lips softly over her wet cheeks and lips. He knew how she felt; however harsh and unkind they might be, family is family, and to be cast out of it must be terribly painful for Andromeda. At the same time, his heart swelled; she had been through everything, she had lost everything only to be with him. That was a gift to him more valuable than anything he could ever ask for.

Gradually, Andromeda regained control over herself, and her tears ceased.

"So, what now?" Ted asked her, savouring her beautiful features as he feasted on her with his eyes.

"Well..." she smiled through bloodshot eyes, "Do you have a church anywhere around?"


End file.
